


Burning up like a fever

by Aces_and_Roses



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Broken Bones, Burns, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-16 03:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20181709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aces_and_Roses/pseuds/Aces_and_Roses
Summary: Hamid wanted nothing more than to never have to see Gideon Langdon again. But when his parents invite Gideon to Cairo in the hopes that they'll be able to reconcile the differences between their two families, Hamid has to think fast to avoid falling back into Gideon's arms. Enter: Zolf Smith.Pretending to be in a relationship with one of his best friends should be easy, shouldn't it?





	Burning up like a fever

**Author's Note:**

> With art by the absolutely wonderful Rowan [ (@drowninginstarlights) ](https://drowninginstarlights.tumblr.com/)!!  
([Zolf's](https://drowninginstarlights.tumblr.com/post/186896104828/burning-up-like-a-fever-by-disasternureyev),[Hamid's](https://drowninginstarlights.tumblr.com/post/186896105383/burning-up-like-a-fever-by-disasternureyev),[and the overall story moodboard](https://drowninginstarlights.tumblr.com/post/186896104073/burning-up-like-a-fever-by-disasternureyev) can be found here!)

Walking through the back alleys of Cairo at almost three in the morning probably wasn’t one of Hamid’s brightest ideas, and doing so while he was more than a little bit drunk was even less bright. At the moment, however, this didn’t occur to him, his vision spinning as he stumbled along, focused solely on the prospect of getting home and falling straight into bed. He was only distantly aware of where he was, just enough to know that he was going in the right direction, but not enough to avoid tripping over the slightly uneven ground under his feet. This obliviousness to his surroundings was, in hindsight, probably why he didn’t notice the men that began to follow him as soon as he left the bar. And why he didn’t see them when they started closing in around him. Although there was no amount of drunkenness that could have stopped him from noticing what was going on when they grabbed him and pulled him into the shadow cast by a nearby building.

“Well, what do we have here?” said the one holding Hamid’s arms, his grip tightening as Hamid began to struggle. “An al Tahan? Bet we could get a pretty penny for you, couldn’t we?”

“Get your hands off-” Hamid’s protest, and struggling, was cut short by the feeling of a blade being pressed against his throat by the person standing directly in front of him.

“I’d be quiet if I were you.” The blade dug in a little deeper, blood welling up from the shallow cut it left there. “Wouldn’t want my hand to slip now, would you? Mark up that pretty throat of yours.” Hamid stayed quiet, and the pressure of the knife let up slightly. “Good boy.” He could feel himself beginning to panic, a building pressure in his chest making it harder and harder for him to breathe, his hands shaking where they were clenched into fists at his sides.

“What should we do with him?” said a third voice from Hamid’s left, though he didn’t dare look, still starkly aware of the sharp edge of the blade on his throat. He felt hot all over, like he was running a fever, a flickering almost-pain in his chest as though flames were licking at the inside of his ribs.

“I say,” said the one holding the knife, “we knock him out, take him somewhere safe, and see what kind of ransom we can get. And if his family doesn’t pay up, well...” Hamid felt the back of someone’s hand stroke his cheek lightly (though he wasn’t sure whose), and he clenched his hands into fists, trying not to flinch away, “I’m sure we can find something else to do with him.”

“Care to do the honours, Dex?” said the one behind him, and the one with the knife (Dex, presumably) drew it back. The pressure in Hamid’s chest continued to build, hot and bright and just on the edge of agony, contained within him as it was.

“Happily.”

Hamid felt the heat abruptly reach a crescendo, and there was a sudden burst of light as a ball of fire ripped through the alley, enveloping Hamid and his captors.

It hurt. Not summoning the fire, that felt… natural, easy as breathing. But as it enveloped him… Hamid had never felt anything so excruciating in his entire life, and he doubted he ever would again.

Hamid’s captors fell as the fire swallowed them, hitting the ground hard in a way that suggested that they were unconscious (at the very least). Hamid himself only stayed upright for a few moments longer before his legs gave out.

The last thing he saw before the world faded out completely was the shadow of a figure at the end of the alley.

* * *

Everything hurt. His joints ached like particularly nasty bruises, his head throbbed in time with his pulse, and his hands burned like the fire was still licking at them. His ears were ringing so loudly that, if there were anything to hear at all, he was certain it would have been nothing more than the suggestion of sound, indiscernible and impossible to understand or interpret. He tried to open his eyes, only to discover that the light just made the pounding in his head worse, and snapped them shut again, an agonized noise escaping him.

Just as he thought that the pain couldn’t get any worse, he felt something cold being poured over his hands and his agony seemed to increase tenfold. He may have screamed, he couldn’t tell past the pain and the ringing in his ears. If he had, it couldn’t have lasted for very long, as only a moment later Hamid sank back into the (thankfully pain-free) darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *

When Hamid woke the second time, it was to the quiet sounds of someone shuffling around nearby. He opened his eyes, then groaned; the light feeling like it was stabbing directly through his eyes into his brain. Before he had the chance to close them again, however, a voice piped up from across the room. “Oh, good, you’re awake.”

Hamid hummed an affirmative, turning his head to see a dwarf standing near the bed he was lying on.

“How’re you feeling?”

Hamid tried to flash him a smile (though it probably looked more like a grimace). “Better than before, that’s for sure.”

The dwarf chuckled quietly, “Well, I sure hope so. Kind of my job.” He held out a hand toward Hamid, “Come on, let’s get you sitting up.” Hamid took the hand and let the dwarf help him into a sitting position, clutching at it for a moment as the room swam in front of his eyes. It took a few seconds before Hamid's vision steadied out enough for him to feel comfortable letting go.

He took the chance to look around as the dwarf moved off to grab something from a cupboard across the room. The room was small and humid, smelling slightly of salt, with walls made of light, relatively smooth stone. It was completely unfamiliar, and Hamid felt a flash of panic as he realized that he had no idea where he was, or who this man was that was with him (he had said that this was his job so he must be some sort of healer. Right? Hamid could feel his hands growing hot as the panic gripped him).

“Where am I?” he asked, trying not to let his voice shake (and not even coming close to succeeding, the fear plain to hear in his tone).

“The temple of Poseidon,” responded the dwarf, turning away from the cupboard with a flask in hand. “The name’s Zolf. Cleric.” Hamid felt his heart slow, the heat that had been gathering subsiding, and he let out his breath slowly. Zolf’s expression softened a bit, “Sorry, I should have told you that as soon as I saw you were awake.”

Hamid shook his head, “It’s fine. I’m just a bit…”

“Shaken?”

“Yeah.” He paused, unsure of what to say as Zolf crossed the room toward where he was sitting again.

“Can I see your hands again, Mr…”

Hamid swallowed, bracing himself for… something (what exactly it was, he didn’t know). “al Tahan. You can call me Hamid.”

If Zolf recognized the name (which he must have, everyone had heard of the al Tahans, in Cairo especially) he did an admirable job of not reacting. “Hamid, then. Can I see your hands?” Hamid held them out and was surprised to see that they were neatly wrapped in crisp white bandages (how hadn’t he noticed that?). Zolf took his right hand and started unwrapping it, revealing shiny pink skin beneath. Hamid sucked in a breath through his teeth. Zolf hummed quietly, “That explosion did quite a number on them. I did the best I could earlier, but honestly, I was more focused on stabilizing you than on these. Needed to take a bit of a breather before I kept working.”

Hamid froze, suddenly tense, his heart skipping a beat as he processed what had just been said. “I’m sorry, did you say- did you say stabilize?”

Zolf looked up from Hamid’s hands and made eye contact, his lips pressed into a thin line. “That explosion was pretty nasty, Hamid.” He paused, looking off into the corner of the room for a moment before turning back to him. “You’re lucky I was nearby.”

“O-Oh.” Hamid felt faint. His breaths were coming faster as he started to shake and he fought back the urge to clench his hands into fists, dig his nails into his palms, aware of the dull ache emanating from them now that he had seen them. (It was one thing to be in the explosion, to lose consciousness, and wake up here. It was another to be told that he had been close enough to death that he needed to be stabilized, to be told that he probably would have died if it hadn’t been for Zolf happening to be nearby).

“Hey, hey, Hamid, look at me. Can you do that for me?” Zolf’s voice sounded like it was coming from underwater, distant and muffled, but Hamid did what he said anyway. “Good, that’s good, Hamid. Now, I need you to focus on my breathing, okay?” Hamid nodded, the motion causing a wave of dizziness to wash over him, and Zolf ran his thumb lightly over the back of Hamid’s hand. “I need you to match my breathing. Try to breathe with me, okay?” Zolf took a deep breath in, let it out slowly, repeating that cycle while Hamid tried to slow his panicked breathing enough to match him.

After a few minutes, Hamid’s breathing had calmed enough to follow Zolf’s consistently. “I’m sorry, Hamid,” Zolf said quietly.

“It’s- It’s okay. You didn’t know that I would-”

Zolf shook his head, cutting Hamid off. “Maybe I didn’t. But I should have.” His tone left no room for argument, so Hamid didn’t try.

(Gods, he was tired, an exhaustion he could feel in his bones, weighing him down.)

Zolf resumed examining Hamid’s hand, unwrapping his left as well before reaching out to grab the flask from where he had left it sitting on the bed next to Hamid. “I’m going to try and heal your hands a bit more, see if I can stop them scarring, alright?” Zolf looked at him, waiting until Hamid nodded before unscrewing the cap of the flask. He poured something that looked like water over Hamid’s hands, holding onto a charm hanging around his neck with his other hand and murmuring something under his breath. Hamid felt his hands warm (not the same heat he had felt in the alley, or earlier when he had been panicking. Something warm and almost… soft. Not like the harsh edges of heat he had felt before. It was nice), and he sighed, pain that he had barely noticed in his hands ebbing away. Looking down at them, Hamid saw that they had returned to their normal colour, with no scarring except for thin white lines that followed the path of his veins.

Zolf huffed out a breath, looking closely at Hamid’s hands. “I don’t think there’s anything I’ll be able to do about those scars, I’m afraid,” he said, releasing them and straightening up. “Sorry about that.”

Hamid flexed his hands, clenching them into fists and releasing them (without any pain at all). “That’s fine, I’m just…” He looked to Zolf where he was standing a bit awkwardly, shifting from side to side, then launched himself to his feet. He sprang forward and wrapped his arms around Zolf’s neck, enveloping him in a hug. “Thank you, Zolf,” he said, muffled from the way that his face was pressed into Zolf’s shoulder. Zolf patted his back lightly, awkwardly.

“You’re welcome, Hamid.” 

* * *

The Temple of Poseidon was not the most welcoming of places, constantly filled with people who always seemed less than happy to see Hamid and the oppressive scent of saltwater, in addition to being stiflingly humid (though how they managed that in the middle of a desert, he wasn’t sure). He hadn’t really noticed this during his first trip there (probably because he had been thoroughly unconscious at the time), but he didn’t let it stop him though as he made his way purposefully toward the desk just to the right of the entrance, holding his right arm steady so as not to jostle his injured shoulder. As he approached, the person sitting behind the desk, a human woman with frown lines so deep they seemed to have been etched into her face, looked up, eyes narrowing as she examined him. Before she could speak, however, Zolf emerged from one of the rooms nearby, his eyes almost immediately landing on Hamid. He raised his eyebrows slightly.

“You’re back.”

“Um, yes, I- uh,” Hamid felt himself floundering, his usual easy charm completely abandoning him. “I need… Um.” He gestured to his upper arm, where the fabric of his sleeve was burned away, the raw pink skin beneath clearly visible.

“I see. Come on.” Zolf turned and walked briskly back towards the room he had just emerged from, and Hamid scrambled to follow him.

Once he had entered the room, Zolf shut the door and turned to him. “Alright, on the bench so I can take a look at it.” As Hamid did what he said, Zolf grabbed a flask - the same flask from the last time, he noted - off the shelf on the other side of the room and shook it, the liquid audibly sloshing around inside. He crossed the room to where Hamid was sitting, and gently took hold of Hamid’s elbow, holding his arm in place as he examined the burn. “Will you be able to get your shirt off so I can take a better look at this, or should I cut off the sleeve?” Hamid shook his head vigorously, quickly moving to unbutton the shirt, and Zolf let out a quiet laugh. “The shirt’s already burned, Hamid. It’s not like you’ll be able to wear it again.”

“Yes, well… I guess it’s the principle of the thing.”

Zolf shook his head, a small grin on his face. Hamid finished unbuttoning the shirt and started to remove it, hissing as the burned fabric peeled itself away from the skin of his arm, but ultimately managing to get it off. Zolf took hold of his elbow again and, after a moment of examination, unscrewed his flask with the other hand, going through the process of healing the burn. Once he was finished, he released Hamid’s arm, turning his gaze from the newly healed skin to Hamid’s face. “So, you a wizard, then?” he asked.

Hamid started slightly, then huffed out a laugh. “What? No, I’m not a wizard. I went to university to study math.”

Zolf’s eyebrows drew low over his eyes, a look of confusion on his face. “Really? You’re sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I would remember studying magic, Zolf.”

“A sorcerer, then? That’s rare.”

“What- I- No, I’m not… Why would you think that?”

Zolf hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, that explosion looked magical, and I’ve never known a cleric or paladin that could do something quite like that, plus you haven’t got any religious symbols. And you’ve come in here with yet another clearly magical burn. If you’re not a wizard, then the only real options are sorcerer or warlock and,” he paused for a moment, looking Hamid over, “no offence, but you really don’t seem like the type to sell your soul in exchange for power.”

Hamid knew he wasn’t a warlock; that wasn’t really something one could do by accident (it wasn’t, was it?). But, as far as he was aware, there was no history of magic in his family, and he told Zolf as much.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not really an expert in this sort of thing.”

“I-I don’t know, Zolf, I’ve never- I’m not…” Hamid paused, considering. Being a sorcerer made… a certain kind of sense, once he thought about it. More sense than any of the other rationalizations he had been making about the explosion since then (really, Hamid, why would any of your attackers blow themselves up?). “I guess…” He let the sentence trail off, unsure of what else he could say, and Zolf seemed perfectly content to let the matter drop if Hamid didn’t want to talk about it. A few moments of awkward silence passed before Hamid spoke again. “Thanks for this, Zolf. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. But…” Zolf hesitated before continuing, “you know, most people go to the Aphrodite lot when they need healing.”

Hamid suddenly felt very guilty, his inner monologue almost instantly descending into an anxious spiral, _‘Zolf was probably busy, he didn’t want to heal you, he just felt bad. You took up valuable time, time that he could have been using to do something that’s probably much more important than healing you’_. “O-oh, yes, I know, I just- Sorry, I didn’t mean to, to inconvenience you. I’ll just go.” He started gathering up his shirt to pull it back on, but Zolf stopped the motions with a hand on his (newly healed) arm.

“That’s not what I meant.” He abruptly pulled his hand back, releasing Hamid’s arm. “Suppose I shouldn’t stop you from getting dressed. But I didn’t mean that you needed to leave, I was just… Wondering why you came here.”

Hamid honestly hadn’t even considered going anywhere else, when he’d gotten so anxious and that sudden burst of flame had enveloped his arm. He had started off in the direction of the temple before his shirt had even started smoking. Something about Zolf had just been… comfortable. Safe. But he couldn’t exactly tell Zolf all that, so he simply settled for-

“You seemed nice.”

Zolf raised his eyebrows incredulously. “No offence, but I don’t think nice is a word anyone has ever used to describe me.”

Hamid crossed his arms over his chest, his natural stubbornness settling into him quickly and with great ease. “Well, you were. Gruff, I guess, but nice. And you knew about what happened. I knew you wouldn’t ask where the burn came from.” He paused for a moment, unsure, then continued, “I mean, if you don’t want me to come back, I won’t. You’re probably busy, and I know this isn’t exactly… normal.”

“It’s-I’m not really that busy, honestly. You can come back whenever. Well, not really whenever, I’m not usually here at night, but… you know what I mean.” Zolf was twisting his ring around his finger, obviously unused to being so… open?

Hamid uncrossed his arms, relaxing as he realized that he wasn’t going to have to argue the issue of Zolf’s niceness anymore, and smiled brightly at him. After a few moments, Zolf even smiled back (something small and unsure, like he wasn’t used to it, and Hamid immediately vowed to make those smiles appear more often, as often as he could). “Thanks, Zolf.” He almost went in to hug him, only to abruptly realize that he was still shirtless. “Now, I’m going to get my shirt back on and get out of your hair. And then try to change my outfit without my sister seeing this one.” Zolf chuckled lightly, and Hamid started pulling his shirt on.

(He still hugged Zolf, just before he left. Zolf had tensed up for a moment before relaxing, and Hamid made a mental note to ask before hugging him in the future.)

* * *

Hamid honestly hadn’t intended for his visits to the temple of Poseidon to become a regular thing. He’d thought that he would practice a little bit with his newfound magic and, once he had better control and could use it without burning himself, he wouldn’t need to go there anymore (he conveniently ignored the tight feeling in his chest when he thought about no longer seeing Zolf. It was nothing. Not important). But it seemed like the more he tried to keep his power under control, the harder it was to do just that. It would leak out of him, sparks shooting from his fingertips when he was angry, flames licking at the inside of his throat and the palms of his hands when he got anxious, that now-familiar heat always there, building inside him the more he tried to keep it contained. Needless to say, his injuries weren’t getting any less frequent, and his trips to the Temple of Poseidon were becoming something of a weekly tradition.

As he entered the building, the woman at the front desk just rolled her eyes, then gestured for Hamid to go on back, which he did, cradling his hand against his side and trying to walk steadily despite the pain radiating from his leg. As he reached the door to the small room, it opened, revealing Zolf standing there, backlit in a way that made his hair look like a golden halo around his head. He jumped slightly, obviously startled by Hamid’s sudden appearance in front of him, then stepped back and gestured him in.

“What’s it this time, Hamid?”

Hamid dropped his gaze to his feet, resisting the temptation to shift from foot to foot (having learned how painful that was the hard way, a little while earlier). “I, ah, I burned my leg. And my hand.” (He winced internally. What was it about Zolf that made him lose all coherency?).

Zolf shook his head fondly, “Experimenting again, huh? Go on, up onto the bench so I can take a look.”

Hamid went to sit on the wooden bench near the wall as Zolf moved a chair over next to it and sat down. He reached out to grab Hamid’s injured hand, taking care not to touch the burns. “Gods, Hamid, this looks like you stuck your hand directly into a fireplace.”

Hamid shrugged, his uninjured leg bouncing with agitation despite his feet not quite reaching the floor (these benches were not built for halflings, that was for sure). “Oh, well, you know. I’m kind of… new, to all this. Moderation is… Hard.”

“I know, but you’ve got to be more careful.”

Hamid gave an exaggerated pout. “But if I was more careful, I’d never get to see you,” he joked.

Zolf huffed a quiet laugh, “Well, if I didn’t have to spend all my time patching you up, maybe we’d actually see each other outside the temple. Now, leg next, before I decide what to do with you.” Hamid gestured to his left leg, and Zolf sighed. “I can’t exactly examine it when it’s covered. Trousers off.”

“O-Oh. Yes. Right.” Zolf politely looked away as Hamid shimmied out of his pants, hissing as the material brushed over the burn.

Zolf examined the wound carefully, fingers tracing the edge as he tried to determine the extent of the injury. Hamid heard him mutter, _Gods, Hamid_, under his breath before pulling back, shifting in his chair to pull his flask out of his pocket, treating the wound as quickly and efficiently as ever. Hamid couldn’t help but sigh in relief as the pain from the burns subsided.

“Thanks, Zolf.”

“Anytime.”

As Hamid got ready to leave, he noticed Zolf fidgeting slightly, tapping his foot lightly on the floor, and staring at Hamid so hard that he could swear he felt the weight of Zolf’s gaze on him. Zolf didn’t speak up, however, until Hamid had reached for the door handle, “We could, uh, talk outside the temple sometime? If you want?”

Hamid paused, his hand still outstretched toward the door (taking a second to make sure he’d heard Zolf right, not just what he wanted to hear), then turned back towards Zolf, a blindingly bright smile on his face. “Yeah!” Hamid inwardly cringed at how overeager he sounded and tried to quiet himself down when he continued, “Yes, I’d uh, like that. That’d be nice.”

Zolf chuckled (and Hamid felt his heart flutter in his chest as that small smile of Zolf’s made a reappearance). “That’s good. That way you don’t have to get injured whenever you want to say hello.”

(Hamid had to make an active effort to tamp down the… feelings he felt building as Zolf said that. They were friends, nothing more. Friends).

“I’d like that, Zolf.”

* * *

Seeing Zolf outside the temple was… a bit disconcerting, if Hamid was being completely honest with himself (which he found he was being less and less these days, as he ignored the bright sparks of _feelings_ in his chest as he looked at Zolf). They were sitting on a bench near a cafe a few blocks from the temple, Zolf having ducked out for an hour or so. Sitting outside in the bright midday sun, Hamid finally got the chance to look at Zolf properly, in good light (the Poseidon lot didn’t seem too worried about proper lighting inside their temples; everything in there always seemed like it had the colour leached out of it). He had never realized just how blue Zolf’s eyes were (Hamid could think of all sorts of sappy comparisons to make: like the sky just before dusk on a clear day, like the clear blue ocean, he could go on. But he wouldn’t. Because that would be odd for a friend to do. And that’s what they were - friends). Now though, Hamid was having a hard time tearing his eyes away, no matter how weirded out he was sure Zolf was by his staring. Suddenly, he realized that Zolf was staring back at him, an expectant look on his face like he was waiting on Hamid to say something.

“Ah, sorry, what was the question?”

Zolf shook his head slightly, a small smile gracing his lips (less unsure than the first time Hamid had seen it, and he couldn’t help but congratulate himself a little bit for getting those smiles to come often enough for that to happen). “You alright there? You seemed like you were about a mile away.”

“I, uh, sorry, I just…” Hamid was panicking slightly. It wasn’t like he could just tell Zolf that he had been distracted admiring the colour of his eyes, that’s a weird thing for a friend to say (and that was all they were, friends). Before he could stop them, however, he felt the very words he explicitly didn’t want to say spilling out, “I just didn’t realize how blue your eyes are.” (Oh, gods, Hamid was about to die of embarrassment, he was sure of it).

Zolf didn’t react like what Hamid had just said was strange at all, he just grinned at him, visibly trying to contain his laughter. “You’ve seen my eyes before, Hamid.”

“Not in good lighting I haven’t.”

Zolf seemingly couldn’t hold it in anymore, laughter bursting free, loud and bright and uncontrolled (it was probably one of the most beautiful sounds that Hamid had ever heard. Not that he’d ever admit it. Because that’s a weird thing for a friend to think. And that’s all they were - friends). Hamid tried to muster some level of indignance at being laughed at, but found that he couldn’t.

“What’s so funny?” Hamid had been trying to sound annoyed, but it rather came out like he was trying not to laugh too.

Zolf reached out to ruffle Hamid’s hair, and at that Hamid managed to gather up some annoyance as he tried to fix it. “You’re just… You are, Hamid.” Hamid huffed, crossing his arms as he gave up on trying to salvage the mess that was his hair now. As he did that, however, he remembered something he had wanted to do that day.

“Oh, oh, Zolf, there’s something I’d been meaning to show you. Something I’ve been practicing.”

Zolf had to take a few seconds to stop his laughter before he could finally speak. “Something you’ve been practicing? Should I be worried? Summon some water to put out the inevitable fire?”

Hamid shook his head decisively. “No, no, nothing with fire. Promise.” Zolf narrowed his eyes slightly, like he didn’t believe him, but gestured for him to go on with one hand (the other wandering toward his holy symbol, which, _rude_). Hamid ignored him in favour of focusing on what he was doing. He took a deep breath, feeling the heat gathering in his fingertips, more docile and controlled than when he tried to do anything with fire. The heat still built, but he pushed it down, then waved his hand vaguely around his hair, feeling it put itself back into order from Zolf’s ruffling.

Looking back to Zolf, Hamid found that he looked suitably impressed. “That was good, Hamid, really good. I didn’t think you could do anything but fire.”

“I’ve been doing research, reading up on, well, wizardry mostly. Trying to find other spells that I could do. That one seemed the most useful.”

“Of course, you’d think it was,” he said, shaking his head fondly. He looked like he was about to say something more, but instead his expression dropped as he looked at something over Hamid’s shoulder. Turning around, Hamid saw the dour face of the woman from the front desk of the temple, scanning the area before her eyes landed on Zolf. She raised her eyebrows, making an impatient gesture before turning to head back to the temple. Zolf sighed as Hamid turned back to him. “Someone must be looking for me, I’ve got to get back.” Hamid nodded, trying not to look disappointed (they had been talking for almost an hour, it would be weird for him to be disappointed that Zolf couldn’t stay longer).

“I could stop by tomorrow? Around lunch?” Hamid paused for a moment (gods, he sounded needy). “If you want.”

“I’d like that. Good to take a break now and then.” Zolf smiled at Hamid once more, squeezing his shoulder (which, if Hamid was reading it correctly, was kind of like the Zolf equivalent of a hug, whenever he didn’t feel up for that level of contact), then got up from the bench. “See you tomorrow, Hamid.”

(If Hamid periodically rubbed at the place Zolf’s hand had been for the rest of the day, his face heating up at the memory of the contact, well, no one needed to know. Because that was a weird thing for a friend to do. And that’s what they were - friends)

* * *

Hamid didn’t strictly _need _magical healing. Sure, the burn on his forearm was unpleasant, but it certainly wasn’t bad enough that it wouldn’t heal on its own in a couple of weeks (it probably wouldn’t have even scarred). Truthfully though, Hamid rarely _needed_ magical healing when he went to see Zolf now. Sometimes he went because the burn (because it was always a burn, somehow, no matter what he was actually trying to do) was in an inconvenient spot, like on his hand, or his neck. Sometimes the issue was just that it would be too hard for him to explain it to his family without saying anything about magic. This time it fell firmly into the latter category; the burn extended from the front of his shoulder up his neck, stopping just on the edge of his jaw (it may be relatively easy to explain away a burn on your hand or lower arm, but any explanations Hamid could think of for burning his neck seemed just a tad bit unbelievable).

(Though if Hamid were being completely honest with himself, he would have to admit that, maybe, perhaps, just a small part of the reason he was going to the temple today was so he could see Zolf; after all, turtlenecks and makeup were always a possibility. But he hadn’t had the chance to go see Zolf in almost a month - they’d both been so busy, they hadn’t been able to make the time - and he was kind of starting to miss him. Not that Zolf needed to know that. Because they were friends, that was all.)

Zolf never seemed to mind his visits anyway. In fact, it seemed that it was quite the opposite; even though they met up outside the temple sometimes now, Zolf still seemed pleased whenever Hamid came by (or at least as pleased as he could be while also still fretting over Hamid’s wellbeing). He had even initiated a hug the last time Hamid had come (it had only lasted a few seconds, but Hamid found himself replaying the feeling of Zolf’s arms going around him unprompted… more often than he cared to admit).

Hamid came to the temple often enough now that the woman at the front desk didn’t even glance up at him as he passed the desk on his way to the little back room (the one he had taken to referring to as ‘Zolf’s office’ in his head). As he approached, however, Hamid heard something from behind the door that he had never heard before. Namely that he _heard_ something at all. Zolf almost never had other people in with him when Hamid came by, and the one other time that he had it had been the woman from the front desk, whose voice Hamid recognized (one would hope that he would, by this point). The voice that came from the room now definitely didn’t match that (which was unsurprising, since Hamid had passed her on his way in). It was clearly a woman’s voice, one tinged with a very strong British accent and an equally strong level of annoyance.

“I know, I know, just finish fixing it up, will ya? I’ve got… things to take care of.”

(Hamid didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the conversation was really very loud, and by this point he was relatively close to the door of the room. He couldn’t _not _hear it even if he tried.)

“You need to be more careful. Can’t have you getting hurt like this.” Zolf’s voice sounded tense, annoyed, and even a bit worried.

Hamid finally reached the door and raised his hand to knock, to announce his presence if nothing else. Before he could, however, it flew open and he found himself face-to-face (or really, face-to-stomach) with a human woman. Hamid tried to back up to move out of her way, but she grabbed him by the collar before he could try. “Who’re you? Why are you here?”

Behind her, Zolf peered out of the doorway, making eye contact with Hamid and giving him an apologetic look. “Calm down, Sasha. I-”

She cut him off, appearing to get more agitated by the second. “Why would I calm down? He was listening in.” Hamid tried to interject, tell her that he really wasn’t, but she jerked at his collar in a way that made her knuckles brush the burn on his neck and he hissed at the sudden pain instead.

“Because I know him, Sasha,” Zolf said exasperatedly. “Let him go.”

Sasha hesitated for a moment longer before finally releasing her hold on Hamid, and he quickly took the opportunity to move backwards out of her way as she pushed past him. Zolf looked at Hamid apologetically, moving out of the doorway to let him into his office, closing the door behind him. “Sorry about that, Sasha’s… pretty private. Probably thought you were spying on her.” Zolf’s eyes widened as he saw the burn on Hamid’s neck, and he immediately started reaching for the flask at his hip. “Gods, Hamid, how did you manage that?”

Hamid felt a flush rise on his cheeks as he unbuttoned the top of his shirt to let Zolf get a better look. “Uh, it, um… The wind picked up and it kind of... blew the fire back at me?” (Hamid hated how hesitant he sounded, like he somehow didn’t remember exactly how it had happened).

“You’re lucky it didn’t get at your face,” Zolf said as he started treating the burn. “As it is though, I don’t think there’ll be any scarring.” Hamid let out a sigh of relief and gave Zolf a grateful smile (he really hadn’t been looking forward to explaining it to his parents. Or Saira for that matter).

“Thanks, Zolf. You’re a lifesaver.”

Zolf grinned at him. “I know.”

* * *

Hamid was starting to think that he simply had bad luck with alleyways, given that this was now the second time that he had been cornered in one by someone who, to all appearances, wanted to do him harm (at least, if the dagger in her hand was any indication). At least it wasn’t the middle of the night this time, so if he screamed someone would probably hear him. If he even had time to scream, that is, which he was beginning to doubt as he watched the woman - Sasha, Zolf had said her name was - approach from the mouth of the alley in front of him. Glancing backward, Hamid was relieved to see that there was no one there, so at least he wasn’t surrounded this time.

(Perhaps it was time for Hamid to start practicing some offensive spells, if this was going to become a regular thing.)

Sasha came to a stop a few feet in front of him, far enough back that he wouldn’t be able to reach out and grab her (not that he would want to, he wasn’t really strong enough to do anything even if he tried), but close enough that he was sure if he started running she’d catch him in a heartbeat. Despite that, Hamid felt surprisingly calm, his breaths deep and even, not even a hint of heat in his chest.

“Why were you in the temple?” Her tone was tense, her words short and clipped, and Hamid could swear he heard her teeth grinding as she clenched her jaw.

“I needed healing.” Sasha narrowed her eyes, the tension in her muscles not easing in the least. “I burned my neck pretty badly.”

“People don’t go to _Poseidon_ for healing.”

“_You_ went to Poseidon for healing.”

“Well, I, uh- shut up! That’s different, I know Zolf. That doesn’t explain why you did,” she growled, gesticulating slightly with her dagger in a way that made Hamid flinch backwards (for the first time in this conversation, astoundingly).

“I know Zolf too! He told you that, remember?”

“Well, yes but…” Sasha’s gaze drifted around the alley as she floundered for some other argument. She seemed to find one, her attention snapping back to him abruptly as she spoke again. “Why were you waiting just outside the door then? You were listening in!”

“I was about to knock!” Hamid said indignantly.

Sasha opened her mouth as though she was about to say something else when they both heard a voice coming from behind Hamid, “What’s going on here?” He whipped his head around to see a goblin standing at the end of the alley behind him, arrow nocked and pointed straight at them (though which one of them precisely it was aimed at, Hamid couldn’t tell).

“None of your business,” Sasha responded from behind Hamid, making no move to come any closer now that his back was turned (small victories).

“Really doesn’t look like none of my business, considering it seems like you were threatening this guy with a dagger.” The goblin moved to the right slightly, peering around Hamid towards Sasha (who seemed to have positioned herself so that Hamid was directly between her and the arrow), and then sighed. “Sasha. What are you doing?”

“Told you, its none of your business, Grizzop.” Despite the apparent defiance of her words, Sasha sounded resigned, moving out from behind Hamid. The goblin - Grizzop, apparently - lowered his bow, returning the arrow to the quiver on his back, and shook his head slowly.

“You can’t be threatening people and saying its not my business, Sasha. Put the dagger away.” Sasha huffed out a breath but did as he said, and Grizzop turned his gaze to Hamid. “What’s your name?”

“Hamid.”

Grizzop’s head cocked to the side, his ears pricking up slightly. “Zolf’s Hamid?”

“Uh…” Hamid didn’t know what to say to that (his heart jolted slightly, hearing it. _Zolf’s Hamid_. Like they were… together, somehow). “I… suppose?”

Grizzop nodded sharply, turning back to Sasha. “Why?”

“He was eavesdropping.”

Grizzop shook his head again. “I doubt that,” he said, glancing over at Hamid, who shook his head vehemently. “He doesn’t really seem like the type, if I’m honest. Besides, Zolf likes him.”

Sasha grunted a noncommittal noise, shrugging her shoulders (and murmuring something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, ‘Just because he’s little…’), then - without any preamble or explanation - began to wander down the alley away from Grizzop. He watched her walk off for a few moments before turning to leave himself. Just before he reached the end of the alley, however, he turned back toward Hamid. “Nice meeting you, Hamid.” He grinned, his teeth shining in the sunlight. “You should probably be a bit more careful in alleys.” Then he was gone, disappearing around the corner.

(Hamid couldn’t really disagree with him on that point, as much as he wanted to.)

* * *

Turned out, just because Grizzop had convinced Sasha that Hamid wasn’t an immediate threat to herself, that didn’t mean that she trusted him. In particular, it didn’t mean that she trusted him alone with Zolf, which was how, for the next few weeks, he found her tagging along on more and more of his and Zolf’s lunch outings (Hamid refused to call them lunch dates, because they weren’t dates, because he and Zolf were just friends, because Zolf wasn’t interested in Hamid like that). Hamid honestly wasn’t sure how she kept finding out about them; he and Zolf didn’t keep a regular schedule - their lives were far too unpredictable - and the one time that he had asked Zolf about it, he had simply shrugged and said that ‘Sasha has her ways’. Not that Hamid was complaining. Honestly, once Sasha had stopped threatening him with a dagger at any sudden movement towards her or Zolf (which had surprisingly only taken around 3 lunches), she was actually quite good company.

However, Sasha had never gotten to wherever he and Zolf were meeting that day before Zolf did, which made it all the more shocking when Hamid arrived at the park to find Sasha seated on the bench by herself, idly tossing a dagger into the air and catching it (it was kind of entrancing to watch, actually, sunlight glinting off the blade almost hypnotically). She looked up as Hamid got closer, squirrelling the dagger away into wherever it was that she managed to hide them on her person and waving him over.

“Hey, Hamid. Zolf’s not gonna make it today. Something came up, apparently. He asked me to let you know.”

“That’s too bad,” Hamid said, sitting down on the bench next to Sasha. “So, what do you want for lunch? I know of a nice restaurant near here we could go to if you’re not in a hurry.”

Sasha looked over at him, eyebrows raised, her expression the very picture of complete and utter befuddlement. “Did you not hear what I just said, mate? Zolf’s not coming.”

“I heard.”

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at him in confusion. “Then why are you asking what I want?”

“Because I thought you might like to get lunch.”

This only appeared to make Sasha even more confused. “But it’s just me. No Zolf.”

“I know. And we don’t have to if you’re too busy. But I’m going to grab lunch either way, and I like eating with a friend a lot more than by myself.”

Sasha looked stunned, her mouth falling open slightly. “I threatened you with a dagger the first time we met.”

A small smile grew on Hamid’s face. “I do remember that, yes. It made quite an impression.”

“But you think of me as your friend.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you, Sasha.”

She stayed silent for a moment, examining him (probably trying to determine if he was lying or not). Then she nodded, just once, “Alright. But if we’re going somewhere fancy then you’re paying.”

Hamid felt the smile from earlier grow wider, and he got up from the bench (almost instinctively offering Sasha a hand, before aborting the movement as he suddenly remembered what happened the last time he’d tried that). “Of course.”

(Turned out, he and Sasha had quite a bit in common, including a great appreciation for good food. Hamid couldn’t help but be a little bit glad that Zolf hadn’t come that day, if only because it gave him the opportunity to learn that about her. He got the feeling he and Sasha were going to be great friends.)

* * *

In hindsight, Hamid probably should have realized that something was up from the moment his father called him into his study. And if not then, he probably should have gotten the message when he ran into Saira as she came out of the room and gave him a pitying look, her mouth forming a thin line and shoulders drawn upwards with tension. As it was, however, Hamid was blissfully oblivious of what was about to happen, until the very moment that it did (though whether knowing in advance would have made a difference in how he reacted, Hamid didn’t know).

As he opened the door, he saw his father seated at his desk, which was hardly unusual. What was strange though, was the fact that his mother was there too. And not only that but actively pacing the length of the room, seemingly unable to contain her agitation. Both of them looked up at him as he entered and, for a few moments the room was completely silent, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

His mother spoke up first, “Oh good, you’re here. Hamid, there’s… something we need to talk to you about.” She hesitated, pausing her pacing to look at him. “You might want to sit down.” Hamid did as she said, feeling the now-familiar flames fluttering in his chest as he glanced between his parents, but he pressed it down (taking a deep breath, like Zolf always got him to when he got anxious).

His father looked restless, tapping his fingers on the desk in front of him the way he only did when he was very displeased (which did nothing to ease Hamid’s anxiety, the flames’ heat building). “Hamid, I’m afraid we’re in a… rather difficult situation. You’re aware of our recent... interpersonal issues with the Langdons, yes?”

Hamid nodded (how could he forget about Gideon, his first serious relationship? Getting kicked out of University for trying to blow up a classroom hadn’t exactly made Gideon’s personality any better. And it certainly didn’t help that the Langdons blamed Hamid for the incident, though he wasn’t really sure why.)

“After the most recent… incident, they’ve started threatening to pull their accounts with us,” his mother said, “and to convince others to do the same.”

“Theirs is a large account, Hamid,” his father interjected, “and they have a… not insignificant amount of influence. What with the recent issues with the Ordinateurs, we can’t exactly afford to lose any accounts. Or influential clients, for that matter.”

Hamid narrowed his eyes slightly, confused. “Yes, I know, but I- I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

His mother sighed quietly, then continued. “Gideon contacted us, separately from his parents. He told us that he could probably convince them not to follow through with their threats.”

“That’s a good thing then, isn’t it?” Hamid asked (none of this was making any sense, why would they bother telling him about it at all if the situation was resolving itself?).

His mother pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, squeezing her eyes shut. “He also told us that he misses you.”

“So? Why would that matter…” Hamid trailed off as the realization struck him, and he looked back and forth between his parents, both stony-faced and serious, no hint that this might be some cruel joke (not that that was the sort of thing they’d do, but Hamid _was _feeling rather desperate at the moment). “You- you can’t be serious.”

His father looked down at his hands where they rested on the desk, fingers still tapping away on the surface. “I’m afraid we are, Hamid.”

Hamid could feel the flames in his chest building, heat gathering at his fingertips. He clenched his hands into fists, feeling pinpricks like needles on the palms of his hands and, as he looked down, noticed that his fingers seemed to have changed into claws (which… was something to think about later). He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears (not Gideon, never Gideon again, he couldn’t, he can’t) as his breathing picked up.

His mother walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him, but he shrugged off the contact (much to her obvious shock). “We wouldn’t ask this if there was any other way, Hamid. We know your relationship with him was… complicated.”

(Hamid felt like he could scream or cry or punch something or _explode_; the heat was still building in his chest, it would be so _easy_ to let it out. But he wouldn’t. He _couldn’t._)

“I can’t!” Hamid very nearly shouted, his parents both flinching away at the volume, then actively lowered his voice as he tried again, “I can’t.” He saw his mother open her mouth to ask why, and felt the panic building (not him, not him nothimnotagain), so he said the first thing he could think of to get it to stop, “I’m already in a relationship!”

His parents looked stunned, though Hamid wasn’t sure whether it was what he said or the fact that he had practically shouted it at them (or maybe a combination of the two). “Oh,” his mother squeezed Hamid’s shoulder reassuringly. “That’s wonderful, Hamid, why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

“It’s, uh, new.”

“We’re happy for you, Hamid, but you must understand that this does put us in a difficult position.” Hamid’s father’s fingers had finally stopped their tapping as he steepled them under his chin. “We already… told Gideon that you would talk to him. He’s coming to Cairo at the end of next month.”

“You’re kidding. You can’t just expect me to give up-”

“No, no, of course not,” his mother interrupted, shooting his father a pointed look, “We just didn’t know. We’ll… we’ll figure something out. Don’t you worry about it.”

(Hamid pretended he couldn’t hear the tense words being exchanged as he closed the door behind himself. He had other, more pressing things on his mind. Namely, that he was definitely not in a relationship right now, and knowing his family it wasn’t going to be long before they insisted on meeting this imaginary partner. That was going to be a problem. And one that he needed to figure out very quickly.)

* * *

This was going to be an extremely awkward conversation, but also completely unavoidable. Gods know he’d tried to come up with any other solution to this problem, but none were forthcoming except this one (no matter how embarrassing it would be).

(He couldn’t just say that they had broken up, he needed to be ‘in a relationship’ until at least whenever Gideon showed up. He couldn’t ask Bertie, he was gods know where _adventuring_, whatever that meant. Sabra and Rania were already in relationships, so they were out. He barely knew Sasha and Grizzop, so he couldn’t ask either of them. Plus, he was pretty sure neither of them would be comfortable helping with something like this. So he was left with only one option: Zolf.)

He and Zolf were sitting in his office in the temple (Hamid hadn’t been injured, but he had a feeling that this was a conversation that he didn’t want to have in public). Zolf had appeared to find Hamid’s request that they stay at the temple a bit strange at first (still did, if the questioning looks that were being occasionally sent his way were any indication), but seemed content to let Hamid take his time explaining. Zolf was just finishing up telling a story about something or other that one of the other clerics had said to him when Hamid finally felt confident enough to speak up. “Uh, Zolf? Can I- can I ask you a favour?”

“‘Course, Hamid. Ask away.”

“It’s a bit weird, feel free to say no,” Hamid said (though what he was thinking at that moment mostly amounted to, _‘Please don’t say no, I don’t know what I’ll do if you do, please, please,’ _repeated ad infinitum). “Would you be willing to, ah, pretend to be in a relationship with me?”

At some point while saying that, Hamid had squeezed his eyes shut, his hands fisted at his sides, his entire body strung so tight he felt like he might snap. He opened one eye to find Zolf staring at him, eyebrows raised, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he snapped his jaw shut. “That is… a bit weird, I have to admit. Why would-” He cut himself off before he could finish the question.

Hamid opened his other eye, then dropped his gaze to his hands where they were toying with the hem of his shirt (he could see the beginnings of scales on the backs of them, but he didn’t have the focus to calm down enough for them to subside). “You can ask, Zolf. If I’m going to be asking you to do something like this, you have the right to know whatever you want.”

“Why do you need a fake relationship?” Zolf paused, and Hamid looked away from his own hands to see that Zolf was twisting his ring around his finger. “You- I’m sure people are falling all over each other to date you, so…”

“An ex is coming to town. It was a messy breakup, and he hasn’t… gotten over it. He’s pushy and he’s- he’s bad for me, and I…” Hamid looked away from Zolf again, couldn’t stand to see… whatever it was that he could see in Zolf’s eyes as he listened to Hamid’s explanation. “I trust you to keep me from going back to him. Because honestly? I don’t trust myself not to.”

Zolf was silent and still for a long moment, to the point that if Hamid hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought that Zolf had fallen asleep. Then Hamid felt Zolf put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing once, lightly, before drawing it back. “Of course, I’ll help you. We’re friends.” He snorts, quietly, “What worthwhile friend lets their friend go back to a terrible ex, huh?” Hamid looked up to see Zolf grinning at him (his hand still warm and solid on Hamid’s shoulder, and _gods_ this was probably a mistake if Hamid ever hoped to get over his burgeoning feelings for the man in front of him), and felt himself starting to smile back. He leapt forward, wrapping Zolf in a tight hug, and murmured “Thank you, Zolf, thank you so much,” into his shoulder.

(Zolf didn’t even tense up anymore, when Hamid hugged him. He just relaxed into it and wrapped his arms around Hamid in return.)

* * *

There were a lot of things that Hamid hadn’t considered when he’d asked Zolf to pretend to be (his boyfriend? Partner?) in a relationship with him. Like what story they were going to give about how they first met (because there was no way Hamid was telling his parents he was a sorcerer yet, not when he wasn’t sure exactly what that meant for him and his family), or when they’d started dating, or any of that other basic relationship stuff. The most significant thing that he hadn’t considered, however, was how difficult it would be to keep his feelings under wraps when he started spending more time with Zolf, or, even more worryingly, how much harder it would be to keep them from getting _worse_.

And gods, were they getting worse. Even at that moment, when all they were doing was sitting on a park bench, discussing the details of the very relationship milestones that Hamid hadn’t considered, his heart skipped a beat every time he made the mistake of glancing over at Zolf.

“-don’t want your family to know about your magic, so we can’t exactly tell them how we actually met. But we want it to be similar, right? So we don’t forget. Hamid?”

Hamid blinked twice, quickly, snapping out of his ruminations. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just… distracted. What was that?”

“I was trying to figure out how we’re going to say we met, but you seem off. You okay?”

“I’m okay, really just… worried. About everything.” (That wasn’t even technically a lie. ‘Everything’ could include being worried about his own stupid, ridiculous _feelings._)

Zolf reached out a hand, hesitating for a moment before placing it on Hamid’s shoulder and squeezing gently. “I get it. We don’t have to talk about this right now if you’re not up for it. We’ve got time.” His hand was warm and reassuring on Hamid shoulder, a grounding presence that kept him from feeling like he was about to vibrate out of his own skin.

“Yeah, I’m… not really up for talking right now. But we could, uh, we should, maybe do other things.” Hamid internally cursed himself for losing any coherency that he may have ever had, _again_, just because Zolf’s hand was still on his shoulder, his thumb tracing absentminded patterns over the fabric of Hamid’s shirt. Hamid reached up and slowly, making sure to telegraph his movements (since he’d learned that Zolf reacted better to people touching him when he had warning, at least most of the time), drew Zolf’s hand off his shoulder, gently grasping it in his own.

(His heart was beating so loud he was almost certain that Zolf could hear it, and he felt like there was something squeezing his windpipe, making it hard to breathe.)

Zolf raised his eyebrows, tilting his head as he regarded Hamid. “Other things?”

“I mean we should probably… practice. Y’know, touching, holding hands. Make sure it looks natural.” Hamid felt his face heating up as he stumbled over his words (for once simply from embarrassment, not anything magical, thank the gods).

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright enough for that?” Zolf’s lips were pursed, slightly, and his gaze had wandered down to where Hamid’s hand (the one that wasn’t still holding Zolf’s) was balled up in the hem of his shirt (which Hamid hadn’t even realized he had been doing until he’d followed Zolf’s eyes there). He unclenched it, smoothing the wrinkles out of the fabric.

“I’m fine, Zolf. Just distracted.” Zolf made a small, disbelieving noise, but Hamid pressed on. “I wouldn’t have to focus as much as I should when we’re talking when we’re just… practicing.”

There was a brief moment of hesitation as Zolf considered him, before sighing heavily. “You’re sure you’re fine?” Hamid nodded (trying not to nod too vigorously, his heart doing strange flips in his chest at the prospect of being closer to Zolf. At being _allowed_ to be closer to Zolf). “And you’ll tell me if that changes, the _moment _it does?” Hamid nodded again, even going so far as to cross his heart, a small grin on his face, when Zolf didn’t look entirely convinced. Zolf huffed out a breath, “Fine, then. C’mere.” He tugged at Hamid’s hand until he came closer, pulling Hamid under his arm so that his head was resting against Zolf’s chest. Hamid reached over to grab Zolf’s free hand, tangling their fingers together on Zolf’s lap.

(Abruptly, Hamid realized just how easy it was going to be getting used to touching Zolf like that. Far, _far_, too easy. And it was going to be significantly more difficult learning how to give it up.)

* * *

Hamid had been spending a lot more time with Zolf lately. And no, (he insisted to himself frequently) it was not just because he found himself missing Zolf more and more often (his feelings weren’t that out of control, he was sure of it), it was just that it was necessary. If he and Zolf were going to convince Gideon and his family that they were dating, they needed to seem comfortable with each other (he told himself, even more frequently), and what better way to seem comfortable with each other than to actually _be _comfortable with each other. Besides, they were friends, and friends spent time together. And if they cuddled a bit more than most friends did, well, they did need to make the act convincing for Hamid’s family. Besides, there was usually no one else there to judge them for it. Usually.

This time, however, there _were_ people there to judge them. Two people, to be exact; Sasha (who was becoming somewhat of a fixture in Hamid’s life, as of late), and Grizzop (who Hamid hadn’t really spoken to since he had talked Sasha down in that alleyway). And while Sasha had hung around Zolf and Hamid often enough that she was no longer phased by the touchy-feelyness of their friendship (because it was necessary, for the sake of the fake relationship. Not because Hamid really enjoyed being close to Zolf. Not at all), Grizzop hadn’t. He kept glancing over at them, red eyes narrowing as he seemed to document each and every place where he and Zolf were touching, each and every aspect of their position that seemed a bit more than just friendly.

They’d all set up some targets in a park near the Temple of Artemis (said targets being more aptly described as crudely drawn bullseyes pinned to the trunks of nearby trees), and Sasha and Grizzop were having some sort of competition; seeing who could hit the bullseye more often, Sasha with her daggers and Grizzop with his arrows. From what Hamid could see, sitting on a nearby bench tucked under Zolf’s arm, they seemed pretty evenly matched (not that he was paying a whole lot of attention, most of his focus being centered on that fact that he was currently _tucked under Zolf’s arm_, his head resting lightly on Zolf’s chest, with Zolf’s fingers carding gently through his hair). This was probably the most excited that Hamid had ever seen Sasha, pumping her fist every time she got a bullseye, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet while she waited for Grizzop to take his shot. She even turned back towards him and Zolf occasionally, whenever she felt like her throw had been particularly good (the gleeful expression on her face then was downright _adorable,_ not that Hamid would ever _dare_ say that out loud).

“You know, I think Sasha likes you.” Zolf’s whispered words startled Hamid out of his reverie, and he felt Zolf’s arm tighten around him minutely in response to the sudden motion momentarily before he relaxed once more. Hamid adjusted his position slightly, shifting so he could look up at Zolf.

(He looked relaxed, a slight smile on his face. The sun shining above them lit him up and, to Hamid, he looked positively _radiant_).

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s turned away from you.” Zolf chuckled quietly under his breath. “She didn’t turn her back to me for almost three months after we met.”

“What can I say, I’ve got a trustworthy face.”

“Probably helps that you’re so small,” Zolf said, grinning at him, and Hamid found he could barely muster up the annoyance required to make a protesting noise at the comment about his height (how could he possibly be annoyed with Zolf when he looked so happy?). “She thinks she could take you in a fight.”

“Oh, she could definitely take me in a fight. Easily. I don’t think she’d even break a sweat.” Hamid didn’t even bother trying to tamp down the smile he ended up giving Zolf in return.

Zolf shrugged (with the arm that wasn’t currently _wrapped around Hamid’s shoulders_), “I didn’t say she was wrong.” He paused, brows furrowing, looking contemplative. “How’s your practice been going, anyway? You haven’t needed healing in days, that’s almost unheard of for you.” Hamid could tell he meant the last part as a joke, but the mention of his magic, of the fact that he should be practicing (should be working on keeping it under control), put him on edge.

“I, uh, haven’t been practicing. I just… I can’t focus on it. Not well enough to keep it controlled. I didn’t want to risk it.”

(His focus had been shot ever since he had talked to his parents about Gideon. Every time he tried to summon it, bring the fire out of his chest and into his fingertips, he thought about him, thought about the explosion that had gotten Gideon kicked out of university, of the people that had _died_ because of it. He kept remembering that his very first thought, at the very moment that he heard about it, had been about how that could have been him. About how, if he hadn’t gotten out when he did, it could have been him that had gotten kicked out, could have been him that had gotten those people killed. And when he finally managed to bring his attention back to himself, he would see sparks flying from his fingertips, flames licking at his palms, and he would push the fire back down. Because it was dangerous, because he could hurt people if he lost his focus for even a second, and he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_, hurt people again. Not like in the alley. Not like Gideon had.)

Zolf must have felt Hamid stiffen, because he turned slightly to face him, one arm still wrapped around Hamid’s shoulders while he lifted his other hand to the back of Hamid’s neck, hovering above his skin until he finally nodded, and Zolf laid his hand there, pulling him in for a hug.

(Zolf seemed to be getting an uncanny knack for knowing when Hamid was spiralling, and honestly, Hamid couldn’t tell if that meant that it was obvious on his face, or if Zolf had just gotten to know him really well. Or maybe a combination of the two.)

Hamid let out a shuddering breath, burying his face in Zolf’s shoulder as his arms wrapped around Zolf in return. He felt Zolf press a kiss to the top of his head (and felt his heart stutter out a staccato rhythm at the unprompted display of affection) and relaxed into him. They stayed that way for a few minutes, only the movement of Zolf’s hand periodically stroking up and down Hamid’s back breaking their stillness.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat loudly next to them, and Hamid’s head snapped up to see Zolf glaring at Grizzop, who was standing next to the bench grinning down at them. Sasha popped up from behind him (though how she managed to make herself disappear behind someone so much smaller than she was Hamid had no idea).

“We’re all done here-”

“I won!” Sasha interjected.

“-and we’re thinking of going to lunch. You two lovebirds coming?”

Hamid felt his face heat up at Grizzop’s words, but before he could even think to protest that he and Zolf weren’t actually dating, Zolf was already gently shifting Hamid off of him enough to stand up from the bench, making an affirmative sort of noise as he did so. Hamid quickly slid off the bench as well to follow them.

(And if he spent the next few minutes silently wishing that he and Zolf hadn’t been interrupted, if only for just a few more moments of contact, well… No one else needed to know.)

* * *

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Hamid began, eyes still closed as he rested his head on Zolf’s shoulder.

“Well, that’s dangerous.” Zolf’s grin was practically audible, and usually, Hamid would say something, _anything _in retaliation to that. This time, however, he was wholly focused on how he was going to say what he needed to say next (carefully filtering out the warmth of Zolf’s side pressed against his, the feeling of Zolf’s fingers where they lay intertwined with Hamid’s on his lap, and the sounds of people moving through the temple just outside the door).

“It’s just, um, you know, this is… I mean the practicing touching it’s-” (good, nice, pleasant, something Hamid had honestly found himself looking forward to, something he wasn’t sure how he was going to live without when this was done) “useful, but what if… That is, I mean…” This was getting Hamid nowhere, and he knew it (he would wonder why he had suddenly lost all coherency, but he knew the exact reason, and that reason was currently sat next to him, holding his hand). He huffed out an annoyed breath, and Zolf rubbed his thumb along the side of Hamid’s hand, a sensation which Hamid couldn’t deny he usually found very grounding, but at this moment was more distracting than anything. He abruptly lifted his head up off Zolf’s shoulder, turning to look him in the eyes (which honestly didn’t make it any easier for him). “We should kiss.”

Zolf blinked at him, his mouth dropping open, “Uh…”

“I mean! To practice! Because kissing is something couples do. And my parents might ask.” Hamid broke eye contact, dropping his gaze to the floor as he felt his face heat up with embarrassment. A spark leapt from the tip of his index finger to the ground below them.

“Your parents are going to ask us to kiss?” Zolf sounded incredulous.

“I- I don’t know. The last time I had a relationship that lasted long enough to introduce them to my parents was Gideon, and we- we’d known each other for years before that, my parents had known him for years. But that’s a thing parents do, isn’t it?” Zolf tensed beside him at the sound of Gideon’s name (the way he had done ever since Hamid had told Zolf about him, in an effort to at least try to explain why he so often panicked when Gideon was brought up).

“I wouldn’t really know, no one’s ever bothered bringing me to meet their parents before.”

“Well, better safe than sorry, I suppose?” Hamid shrugged. “I’d, uh, rather be over-prepared than underprepared when it comes to my parents.”

“Guess so.” Zolf swallowed, his eyes darting down to Hamid’s mouth momentarily before flicking upward again. “So, do you wanna, uh… Now?” Hamid just nodded once, not trusting himself to speak. “Okay then, let’s… do this, I guess.” Zolf started to lean in, but Hamid put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, brows furrowed.

“If you’re not comfortable with this, we don’t have to. We’ll figure something out.”

“It’s fine, Hamid. If I wasn’t okay with it, I wouldn’t do it. I promise.”

Hamid examined Zolf for a few seconds, searching for any signs of discomfort and, finding none, slid his hand from Zolf’s shoulder to the back of his neck.

The beginning of the kiss was hesitant, unsure, barely a brush of lips before they both drew back. But the contact, the permission to finally, _finally_ do the very thing he had been daydreaming about for weeks (not that Hamid would ever admit it). It was like a dam inside him had broken; he pulled Zolf back in, his hands migrating to Zolf’s hair, weaving his fingers through it as their mouths moved against one another’s - pushing and pulling like the tides. Zolf’s hands found Hamid’s waist, tugging him closer so suddenly that Hamid almost fell to the ground, only managing to save himself the by swinging a leg around so that he was straddling Zolf’s legs. Hamid tugged his hair and Zolf gasped into the kiss, his grip tightening in retaliation as he pulled Hamid impossibly closer.

They parted after what somehow both felt like seconds and an eternity later, pulling back only a few inches, both panting into the space between them. Hamid opened his eyes (when had he closed them? He couldn’t remember) and disentangled his fingers from Zolf’s hair, half-heartedly trying to fix the absolute mess he’d made of it, but to no avail. Zolf’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared up at Hamid (and what a novelty that was, to have someone have to look _up_ at him. Gods, Zolf’s eyes were so _blue_).

“Hamid…” he murmured, so quietly that Hamid almost couldn’t hear him, voice rough in a way he had never heard from him before. “I…”

Suddenly, the reality of the situation dawned on Hamid; what had just happened, and what he had just done. He had just kissed Zolf, and now he was straddling Zolf’s lap, which meant that he had let himself get carried away in a way that a person who only has platonic feelings for someone else would _never_ let themselves get carried away. He jerked backwards abruptly, nearly falling to the floor in his haste to get off of him, get _away_, all the while his thoughts ran a frantic circle of _‘why did you do that, why would you do that, what have you done, you’ve ruined everything just because you couldn’t keep your stupid feelings in check’_ over and over again. He stumbled toward the door, his breaths coming faster as he felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes (_‘stupid, stupid, what have you done’_).

“Sorry, Zolf, I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t- I shouldn’t have, I mean…” There were sparks jumping from his fingertips to the floor, flames licking at his hands, and the fire in his chest was getting so hot as to almost be unbearable. He yanked the door open, leaving behind scorch marks where he had touched the wood, and bolted out of the office, out of the temple.

(Zolf called after him as he ran, but Hamid ignored it. He didn’t want Zolf’s pity, he didn’t want the embarrassment, didn’t want the shame he would inevitably feel as Zolf let him down gently. If he just got away, just long enough to calm down, just long enough for the feeling of Zolf’s mouth on his to fade, then he could come back and pretend it hadn’t happened. They could both forget about the whole thing. He wouldn’t have to lose his friend over something as ridiculous as this stupid crush.)

* * *

Hamid couldn’t calm down.

It had been almost half an hour since he had fled the Temple of Poseidon, and he was still wandering the streets, trying desperately to calm his heart rate, slow his breathing, _anything_. The heat in his chest that had started building immediately after the kiss hadn’t subsided, not in the slightest, and even Hamid’s most concentrated efforts couldn’t keep him from leaving a trail of sparks and scorched wood behind him. The streets he was on now were blissfully deserted, however - thank the gods - so there was no one around to see his panic; to see one of _the _al Tahans having a breakdown (or to see that one of _the _al Tahans was a sorcerer).

For the first fifteen minutes, he had simply wandered blindly through the city, keeping his head down in an attempt to prevent anyone from seeing the tears streaming down his face. However, when he realized that this episode wasn’t about to pass anytime soon, he wandered away from the center of the city, hoping to avoid public scrutiny by making his way to less busy areas.

His chest was burning, hot and bright and _painful _(it had never hurt this much before, not even the first time). The sparks flying from his fingertips were taking longer and longer to dissipate, each making a valiant effort to catch before finally fizzling out. Hamid was finding it ever more difficult to keep the fire in his chest from erupting outward, so he staggered off the main street into a nearby alleyway, without even a moment’s consideration given for his previous luck in them. He only made it a few feet in before he collapsed against the wall, his breath coming in great gasps as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm himself enough to push the heat back down. A few seconds of this made it clear that he wasn’t going to be able to do that, so he changed his efforts; instead of trying to suppress the fire, he forced it outward - away from him (he was only too aware of the fact that, if he hurt himself too badly, there would be no Zolf to save him this time).

The fire erupted from him, his mouth and his fingertips, hot and bright but not _painful_, not now that he was directing it at a target outside of himself. He burned for what felt like an eternity and it felt _good_, like he’d been holding his breath for as long as he could remember and had only just then taken in a fresh lungful of air; that heady rush of relief filling him up, diffusing itself through every cell in his body. Then, suddenly, it was over. The fire was gone, leaving an empty space in his chest in its absence. He opened his eyes, shocked to see that, beyond some minor scorching on the ground and wall across the alley, there was no damage, as though the fire had simply burned the air, containing itself to the area it would cause the least destruction.

All the tension in his body abruptly left him, his muscles going completely slack as he collapsed to the ground. He felt the impact, but distantly, as though he were somewhere just outside of himself. He felt something snap, a bright-sharp jolt of pain in his arm, but the distance he was feeling from his body dulled the pain to a low ache.

The world faded to black, and Hamid felt nothing.

* * *

Hamid snapped back into consciousness suddenly and without warning; one moment everything was black, silent and peaceful, and the next the world was a kaleidoscope of bright and swirling colours, throbbing pain radiating outward from his right arm, and that same empty, hollowed-out feeling in his chest. As the world gradually stopped spinning, the swirls of colour coalesced back into familiar shapes. He was laying on the ground in the same alley where he had lost consciousness - the blackened ground in front of him was proof enough of that - but now the sun was setting off near the horizon, deep reds and oranges filling the horizon of the rapidly darkening sky.

(Gods, he must have been unconscious for hours, then. When he had left the temple it was near midday.)

He shifted slowly, holding his right arm carefully against his body, hissing as every movement sent a jolt of pain through him. By the time he was on his feet, his bottom lip was bitten raw and bloody in his attempts to keep quiet, and the world was spinning once more (everything at once too-bright and not-bright-enough, colours smudging and blending into one another whenever he turned his head). He needed healing, he knew that much; he was too afraid to look down at his arm, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the blood trailing down it to drip off the ends of his fingers. He began to stumble his way to the nearest temple - the temple of Aphrodite, this time, not Poseidon (he couldn’t go back to the temple of Poseidon. He couldn’t exactly remember, why at the moment. He just knew, deep down, that he couldn’t go back there. Not now).

The next hour was a blur; a pain-addled journey to the temple, being ushered inside by a very concerned woman who kept glancing downward at Hamid’s arm, being gently sat down in a small room off to the side of the main hospital area and told to, ‘wait for just a moment while they went and got a healer’, and then, finally, an orc clad in bright (almost headache-inducingly so) pink armour was in front of him, gently examining his arm.

“This looks quite painful, Mr…?”

It took Hamid a few moments to properly process that the woman had spoken to him, and a few moments more to figure out what she had said and how to respond to it. Finally, he managed to croak out, “al Tahan. You can call me Hamid,” fighting down the feeling of deja vu those words caused (a flask of saltwater and gentle hands, a calm voice talking him down from the edge of a panic attack) as he struggled to focus on the woman in front of him.

“Thank you, Hamid. I am Azu.” She hesitated for a second, looking for all the world like she was going to go in for a hug (or at the very least a handshake), before suddenly refocusing on Hamid’s injured arm. “As I was saying, this looks quite painful. Can I ask what happened?”

Hamid focused his gaze on the wall above Azu’s left shoulder, and replied, “Just fell wrong, I guess.”

(It wasn’t technically a lie, he had fallen, and he _was _pretty sure that was what had caused the break.)

Azu nodded, seemingly taking what he said at face value, then gently set her hands on his arm on either side of the break, a pink glow (somehow different from the glow of her armour, though Hamid couldn’t quite figure out how) lighting the room. His arm felt warm and comfortable, like it had been wrapped in a soft blanket and, after a few moments, he looked down at it to see that the skin (and bone) was unbroken. However, in the spot where the bone had presumably pierced his skin earlier (if the dried blood on his arm below and around it was any indication) there was a jagged, patchy scar. Contrary to his expectations, it didn’t look like the kind of scar one gets from broken skin. Instead, it looked more like a burn scar, but somehow still sharp at the same time.

Hamid glanced up from his arm to see Azu looking at him concernedly, brows drawn low over her eyes and a slight frown on her face. “Are you sure it was only a fall that caused this? It looks a bit more… magical in nature than that.”

Hamid knew he couldn’t lie to her, not when she was looking at him like that - purely concerned for his well being, with no apparent ulterior motive. Besides, she hadn’t even blinked at the mention of his name (just like Zolf hadn’t-. Hamid cut that thought off before it finished), and she really didn’t seem like the kind of person that would (or could effectively) lie.

“I guess that wasn’t exactly the whole of it, no. I, uh…” Hamid felt the words catch in his throat as he abruptly realized that he’d never actually told anyone before; Zolf had been the one to suggest the idea in the first place, and Grizzop and Sasha seemed to figure it out after Hamid had accidently lit something on fire one too many times. Zolf had just sighed and shaken his head, a small almost fond smile on his face as he cast create water over the burning shrub, while some sort of silent communication passed between Grizzop and Sasha (and _gods, _did thinking about that make Hamid’s heart constrict). “I’m a sorcerer.”

Azu barely reacted to the declaration, simply nodding her head as though she wasn’t surprised in the least (and perhaps she wasn’t, Hamid had no way of knowing). “I see. That would certainly explain the scarring.” She paused, glancing toward the window and out into the rapidly darkening city outside. “It’s getting quite dark, Hamid, and you look very tired. I could walk you home, if you like?”

Hamid’s first instinct was to refuse. Even after so many years, he still found it quite annoying when people assumed he couldn’t handle himself just because of his size (not that those people were entirely wrong, given his track record, but still…). But when he tried to prestidigitate himself (clean the blood off his arm, make himself look presentable at least), to reach inside to the bright-warm _something_ in his chest, he found nothing there, just an empty, hollow space behind his ribs. So instead he simply nodded, following behind Azu as she escorted him out of the temple.

As they made their way through the streets towards Hamid’s home, Azu chattered away to him cheerfully, telling a story of some sort that Hamid desperately wanted to pay attention to (she seemed very kind, and Hamid really didn’t want to be rude), but he simply found himself unable to focus, her voice fading into background noise. Now that he was calm and collected, no longer half-delirious with pain, Hamid’s thoughts kept drifting back to Zolf, to what had happened that afternoon.

(Gods, he wasn’t even sure why he had suggested that they practice kissing. Normal people didn’t ask normal couples to kiss in front of them, and he knew that. It had just been some stupid, vain hope that maybe, just maybe, Zolf returned his feelings, that they would suddenly both realize that the other felt the same the moment that their lips touched. But of course Zolf didn’t, why would he? They were just friends. And that had been fine, Hamid had been fine, because Zolf hadn’t known and that had meant it didn’t have to be awkward. But now Zolf knew, all because Hamid had gotten carried away, had taken it too far, taken advantage of Zolf’s kindness. Just because of one stupid kiss.)

(But _gods_ what a kiss it had been.)

Unfocused or not, Hamid still managed to make the appropriate noises at all the right times, and Azu chatted away to him the entire way back to Hamid’s (but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel terrible about it, and he made a mental note to thank her properly later, when he didn’t feel quite so dead on his feet. Maybe take her out for lunch). They reached the front gate, Azu looking momentarily stunned, her gaze flitting back and forth between Hamid and the house (maybe she really hadn’t recognized the name).

Before he went inside, he turned back to her. “Thank you for everything, Azu,” he said, trying his best to convey his sincerity, craning his neck to look Azu in the eyes as he did.

Azu beamed down at him (the smile looking much more natural on her face than her earlier concerned look had been). “Anytime, Hamid. I’m happy to help.”

He hesitated for a moment, considering, before moving to give Azu a hug. She beat him to it, however, reaching down to scoop him off his feet so suddenly that he was forced to wrap his arms around her neck in order to keep his balance.

Azu was a fantastic hugger.

* * *

There were a few possible scenarios Hamid had considered might occur when he got back home that night: the twins bombarding him with questions about where he had been all day, some gentle prodding from his father about why he had missed dinner, or his mother fussing over the state of his clothes (slightly torn and quite dirty as they were, since he still couldn’t muster the energy to prestidigitate himself). What really happened the moment he stepped through the door was none of those.

“Gods, Hamid, what happened to your arm?” he heard Saira’s shocked exclamation from where she had just entered the front room, her brow creased in concern as she rushed toward him. Looking down, Hamid abruptly realized that he had never gotten the chance to wash off the dried blood from his arm and sleeve, and that the way his sleeve was torn left his new scar plainly visible. He hurriedly adjusted the fabric on his arm, trying to cover up the scar in the hope that Saira had only seen the tear. That hope was dashed the moment she reached him, however, as she immediately grabbed it and tugged the sleeve out of the way, revealing the full - quite understandably concerning - state of it. One of her hands moved to hold his wrist while the other carefully traced the edges of the scar, blood flaking away under her fingertips.

Hamid tried to snatch his arm away, but Saira’s grip on his wrist was vice-like and unwavering. “It’s fine, Saira, let go.” He tugged at it once more, ineffectually, as her grip on him tightened more, just on the edge of being painful.

Saira looked up from her examination of his arm, glaring at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. “This doesn’t _look_ fine to me! You seriously expect me to let this go? I come in to see you with your sleeve all torn up which, knowing you, is already worrying. But then. But _then_, I come to see what’s going on and realize that not only is your arm covered in blood, but that you also have a scar that I am _certain_ I have never seen before! And you expect me to believe that you’re _fine_!?”

“Maybe you just didn’t-” Saira’s glare somehow got (impossibly) more intense, and Hamid cut himself off.

“Don’t you dare say that I might not remember it, Hamid! Trust me when I say that a scar like this one is _very_ memorable.” She looked down at the floor and took a slow breath, clearly trying to calm herself down. She then turned Hamid’s arm gently until the pale lines tracing the veins on the back of his hand were visible to both of them. “This is the second time in the past few months that you’ve come home with a new scar, and you’re being just as cagey about where it came from now as you were the first time. I’m just…” She released his wrist, her hands instead coming up to gently squeeze his shoulders as she looked him in the eyes once more. “I’m just worried about you. Please, Hamid, tell me what’s going on.”

“I…” Hamid broke the eye contact, instead looking down to examine the floor, the weight of Saira’s gaze on him abruptly becoming too much to bear. “It’s complicated.”

“I can handle complicated.”

* * *

True to her word, Saira could indeed handle complicated; as Hamid told the story - both of them having moved to his room, now sitting on his bed with the door closed securely - from getting cornered in that alley to waking up in the temple of Poseidon and finding out that Zolf had saved his life, she didn’t interject once. She hadn’t even seemed all that shocked when he had admitted that he was a sorcerer, or when he told her that magic had caused the scars that she’d noticed. She instead sat in thoughtful silence, one that lasted even for a few minutes after he had finished, before finally speaking.

“So, you said Zolf saved you? Your boyfriend Zolf?” Hamid could only nod silently, feeling a lump form in his throat at the mention of Zolf (at the sudden resurgence of the memory of Zolf’s kiss, the feeling of Zolf’s mouth on his, the feeling of Zolf’s hands on his waist, his fingers in Zolf’s hair. The sudden reminder of how he had screwed everything up). “That’s how you met? That… That’s really sweet, actually. Very... Prince Charming-esque.”

Hamid let out a (only slightly strained) laugh at that. “I guess it was, yeah.”

“I wouldn’t tell our parents about that, though. Don’t know if they would see it the same way.” She was obviously trying to lighten the mood, perhaps sensing the rapidly darkening path his thoughts had taken. Hamid appreciated the effort, even though it wasn’t really working. Still, he tried to respond in a similarly lighthearted fashion, even though his heart wasn’t really in it.

“Oh, I wasn’t planning to. I was hoping to actually survive until my next birthday.” Hamid paused, twisting the hem of his (thoroughly ruined) shirt in his hands. “You- you aren’t going to tell them this, any of this, right?”

Saira reached over and grabbed his hands, adjusting how she was sitting so that she was looking at Hamid straight on. “I won’t. But I’m not going to lie to them. If they ask about a scar, or a burn, I’m not going to cover it up for you. It’s your choice, what you tell them and when, but I don’t think you should keep all of this a secret forever.”

Hamid looked over to her, and she squeezed his hand, just once. “I’m not going to. I just… need some time to figure it out.”

Saira nodded, then let go of his hand, moving toward the door. “Will you… Will you thank Zolf for me? For keeping you safe?” Hamid nodded and Saira, looking satisfied, left the room, closing the door behind her.

(Hamid felt a bit bad for telling her that magic had caused his new scar, even though it wasn’t technically a lie. But it wasn’t like he could tell her everything; not about Zolf and the fake relationship, and certainly not about how he had ruined it all with one stupid kiss).

* * *

Hamid was starting to get worried. In the days following what he had been (in his head) referring to as The Kiss, he hadn’t been able to use his magic at all. Even the slightest attempt to reach into that place (which had been bright and warm, but had afterward become cold and empty and achingly hollow) was met with a fit of dizziness so strong that he almost fainted (and actually had once, out in the garden, when he had reached as far as he could, thinking that doing so might bring his magic back). It was as though his outburst in the alley had drained all of it out of him, leaving him with nothing, and the fact that it didn’t seem to be going back to normal on its own was concerning him. This was precisely the reason why he had gone to see Azu again, three days after The Kiss.

(Azu was the one who had treated him when he first started noticing the absence, so that was why he went back to her, and not to Zolf. At least, that was what he told himself, while pointedly ignoring the anxiety he felt every time he considered going to see him again, bright and clear despite lacking the heat he would usually feel building to accompany it.)

“I’m sorry, Hamid, I’m afraid I don’t know very much about sorcery. I could ask Aerin Fairhands if-”

“No!” Azu flinched as Hamid very nearly shouted in his haste to stop her. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean… Sorry.” He looked at her plaintively. “Please don’t tell him, don’t tell anyone, I can’t-”

“It’s alright, Hamid. I won’t. I promise.” She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing soothing circles in the fabric of his shirt. “But I’m afraid there’s nothing else I can do.”

“That’s… That’s alright. Thanks for trying, anyway.” Azu smiled at him, then drew her hand back, moving to stand up. Hamid felt a flash of panic; he didn’t want to be alone, not when everything felt so wrong.

Normally, when Hamid was feeling anxious like he was now he would go and see Zolf (he had always been so good at calming Hamid down, at making him feel safe and helping him realize that there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place). And, honestly, he probably should have done that anyway; Zolf had been the one to initially suggest that Hamid was a sorcerer, so it was entirely possible that he knew a bit more about them than Azu did. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t face Zolf after everything that had happened (he was sure that Zolf wouldn’t be cruel about it. In fact, he would probably just ignore that it had ever happened and move on, with the exception of some awkwardness whenever Hamid got too close. Hugs would be out of the question now, but everything would be fine. But every time he thought about Zolf he was immediately reminded of The Kiss. He just needed some time, that was all, time to let the memory fade again so he could go back to normal).

But since he couldn’t go see Zolf, Hamid was faced with only two options: go sit at home alone and try to resist the temptation to reach for magic that didn’t seem to be there, or…

“Do you want to go for lunch?”

Azu paused, halfway to standing, and looks back at Hamid. Then, a blindingly bright smile broke out on her face. “I’d love to!”

Hamid returned her smile, and for the first time since The Kiss he could have sworn he felt the tiniest spark flicker to life in his chest (just for a moment, barely worth considering, and yet Hamid knew somehow that it would be enough for the flames to start again).

(It was possible that Hamid should be more concerned by the number of friends he had gained by being injured. All during lunch, however, he was just pleased that he was probably going to be able to add Azu to that list.)

* * *

Someone was watching him; Hamid was almost certain of it.

At first, it was only an inkling, a feeling like eyes on the back of his neck, only for him to turn and see nothing there. He thought he might just not be getting enough sleep, or that he was just being paranoid (which, could anyone really blame him, after his attempted kidnapping). He thought it would just go away, if he gave it some time, ignored it.

On the contrary, however, as time passed it only seemed to get worse, happening more and more often. It was starting to be often enough that he was getting faster, whipping his head around to where he was certain the eyes on him originated to just barely see a blur of darkness as it disappeared, but never anything more.

After about a week of this, Hamid realized two things (well, three things).

  1. The feeling had only started after The Kiss (the day after, in fact).
  2. Most of the time it happened when he was out of the house, usually when he was having lunch with Azu.

These two realizations allowed him to come to his third, fairly certain conclusion: Sasha was watching him. There had only been one change in his routine since The Kiss - he hadn’t seen Zolf (not that he was avoiding him, because he wasn’t) which, by extension, meant that he hadn’t seen Sasha either. There had only been one change in his social circle since The Kiss - the addition of Azu. And there was only one person that he knew who was capable of sticking to the shadows so effectively that she essentially became invisible, and that was Sasha.

Knowing this didn’t really do him any good, however, since he didn’t really know why she was doing it, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t seem to get her to stop. No, all of his efforts made it very clear to him that she wasn’t going to stop until _she _decided to, which was exactly what she did eight days after The Kiss.

He and Azu had eaten lunch and were wandering their way back to the temple of Aphrodite when Sasha finally revealed herself, seemingly appearing from nowhere next to Azu. “Hey.”

Azu nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Sasha’s voice (the only reason that Hamid didn’t was thanks to desensitization, which was not to say that he hadn’t jumped any of the first twenty times). “Oh! Gods, you- you startled me.” The three of them stopped walking, Azu and Hamid both turning to face Sasha. “Who… who are you? I’m Azu.” Sasha simply shrugged, directing her gaze at Hamid.

“Azu, this is Sasha. Sasha, Azu.”

“Wonderful to meet you, Sasha!” Azu seemed to go in for a hug (as Hamid was rapidly learning was her way) but drew back when she noticed how Sasha tensed when she got close, holding out a hand to shake instead. Sasha looked at it for a few moments, then up at Azu, before finally (shockingly) shaking the proffered hand just once.

“Why are you here, Sasha? Why’ve you been following me?” Hamid felt himself tense slightly as Sasha levelled him with a judgemental look.

“Zolf’s been worried. Wouldn’t say it, but he has. I’ve been checking on you.”

Azu’s brows were drawn low over her eyes, and she tilted her head slightly as she stared at Sasha, confused. “I’m sorry, you’ve been following Hamid?” She looked over to him, “And you’ve known about it?”

Sasha waved a hand dismissively. “‘S not important. What is important is that you’ve been avoiding Zolf, and he’s worried about you. Stop it and go talk to him, or I’ll make you.” She waved her hand again, then disappeared into the shadow of a nearby building. Azu stared after her for a solid minute, lips parted slightly, awestruck, before turning back to Hamid.

He swallowed once as he looked into the darkness where Sasha had been before finally moving to meet Azu’s gaze. “Sorry about that. Sasha can be a bit… prickly… around new people.”

“That’s fine, Hamid. I’m…” She placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing once, “I’m more concerned about you. Zolf is your boyfriend, correct? But you’ve been avoiding him?”

“I-I’m fine,” Hamid stuttered out, looking down to where he was rubbing the hem of his shirt between his fingers (it was difficult to force out the lie as Azu looked at him with that much sincerity), “It’s just- It’s complicated.”

“Hamid.”

“I’m fine!” Hamid snapped, and Azu flinched away, hand dropping from his shoulder. He felt himself deflate at the look on her face, a combination of pity and shock. “Just- just drop it, please. I’m fine.”

Azu frowned at him, but did as he asked; they didn’t talk about what happened, about Sasha, or Zolf, for the rest of the walk back to the temple (she still shot him concerned looks every few minutes, but he did his level best to ignore them). Just before they parted ways at the temple doors, however, she turned back to him.

“Avoiding your problems won’t make them disappear, Hamid. Whatever happened with Zolf, you need to talk to him about it.” Hamid nodded, giving her a tired smile, and she turned and went into the temple, apparently satisfied.

(Deep down, Hamid knew she was right. Avoiding Zolf hadn’t made anything any better for him, and it had only seemed to make Zolf worried about him. He knew he needed to see him, to talk it out, but… He was so afraid. Afraid that he was going to lose Zolf, whenever he finally went to talk to him. Afraid that The Kiss had broken their friendship beyond repair.)

* * *

Hamid hadn’t even realized that his absentminded path away from the temple of Aphrodite had led him straight to the temple of Poseidon. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised, since he’d been so occupied with thoughts of Zolf and what he was going to say when he finally talked to him, it only made sense that he would wander back to him. Still, he was shocked to find himself at the open door of the temple, the smell of sea air wafting out of the building both comforting and terrifying. Nevertheless, he was there now, so he took a deep breath and started through the temple toward Zolf’s office.

As he approached the door, it suddenly swung open and Grizzop rushed out, nearly running face-first into Hamid. He looked pleased as he skidded to a stop in front of him, a grin on his face as his ears twitched slightly in a way that Hamid had learned meant that he was happy. “Oh good, you’re here, maybe now he’ll stop sulking.” Grizzop rushed around him so he ended up behind Hamid, planting his hands on Hamid’s back and pushing him toward the door. “Go on, go on, no sense waiting out here, hurry up.” Once he was at a distance that Grizzop seemed to think was reasonably close to the door, he pulled his hands back so quickly that Hamid almost fell without their support (as it was, he stumbled backward half a step). Looking back at him, Hamid saw Grizzop make an ushering motion with his hands, urging him to go into the office. He took a deep breath, then stepped through the door (which was promptly slammed shut behind him, presumably by Grizzop).

Zolf didn’t look up from what he was doing as he spoke, “I’m fine, Grizzop, I told you. You can go.”

(The midday sun streaming through the open window gave Zolf a halo, highlighted his sharp profile, and made his hair looked positively golden. Hamid couldn’t help but think he just might be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.)

Hamid cleared his throat quietly, not quite trusting himself to speak around the growing lump in his throat, and Zolf made an annoyed sound (probably still thinking the other person in the room was Grizzop). After a few more moments of silence Zolf looked up from his desk and finally, _finally _toward Hamid (his eyes were red, looked puffy and irritated, like he’d been crying).

“Hamid?” Zolf rushed across the room toward him, looking for all the world like he was about to initiate a hug before coming to an abrupt stop, pulling back and away from Hamid. Instead, he stood a few feet away from him, shifting awkwardly (uncomfortably) from side to side, only able to hold eye contact for a few moments before his gaze shifted to rest on the ground.

(It was everything Hamid had worried would happen, the worst-case scenario. Zolf had figured out how Hamid felt about him, and now he was uncomfortable and awkward, and this wouldn’t go away, not really, not ever. Hamid had ruined everything. He felt a familiar heat building in his chest and, for the first time in a long time, felt the pinpricks of claws piercing the skin of his palms as he clenched his hands into fists, trying to resist the urge to reach forward and pull Zolf into a hug. Gods, he’d missed him.)

“Hamid, you’re… You’re here. I’m… That’s good. We- I wanted to talk to you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to- Never mind.” Zolf was twisting his ring around his finger, his usual nervous tic, and Hamid hated it. He hated how tense Zolf was, how he couldn’t even look at Hamid, hated how terribly awkward he had made things, and he knew he would do anything, absolutely anything to get them back to normal.

“I’m- Yeah, I’m here. I’m… sorry that I haven’t been around, I just-” (needed time, needed space, something, anything to get over him, even though it didn’t work. Even though it could never work) “I’ve just been really busy.”

“Yeah, I’m… sure you have been.” Zolf didn’t sound like he believed the excuse (why would he, it was a terrible lie. Even at his busiest Hamid always went out of his way to make time for Zolf), but he didn’t seem to be willing to say anything about it, to confront the real reason why Hamid had been avoiding him (because that was what he’d been doing, there was no point in avoiding the truth any longer. Not when Zolf was standing there, only a few feet away, but feeling to Hamid like he was on the other side of an uncrossable ocean). “I’m sorry. About the- you know. I just,” Zolf swallowed, his gaze not shifting from its place on the floor. “I… Hamid, I don’t think I can… pretend. I can’t pretend to be in a relationship with you anymore.” Hamid’s heart dropped down to his feet (he should have expected this, he should have known Zolf wouldn’t want to pretend, wouldn’t want to be so close to Hamid when he knew how Hamid felt about him, but it still _hurt_. Hurt like a hand squeezing his heart, hurt like the cold emptiness he had felt in his chest for so long after The Kiss). “I know I- I promised but I… I just can’t. I’m sorry. I still- I want to be your friend, but I just can’t… do that, anymore.”

Hamid felt like he was about to cry, could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, feel the heat building in his chest and under his skin. Could feel the pain in his hands getting worse as he clenched his fists even tighter, the claws tearing at the skin of his palms, surely leaving bloody lines in their wake. But he understood, and he couldn’t blame Zolf for it (how could he, it wasn’t Zolf’s fault, it was Hamid’s). “I… I understand. I want to be friends too, and- and if this is what you need for us to be able to do that then I… I get it.” Hamid’s voice sounded weak and watery, and Zolf looked up at him as he spoke. He looked… grateful. Grateful that Hamid understood, grateful that Hamid was still willing to be friends, grateful that Hamid wasn’t angry that Zolf didn’t return his feelings. Hamid gave Zolf a tired smile, once more resisting the urge to hug him as he backed up toward the door (the heat was still there, in his chest, and keeping it inside was starting to hurt in a way that he wasn’t familiar with. He needed to get out, get away, let it out somewhere it wouldn’t hurt the man that he lov-). “I need to go, I’m…” (I’m sorry, I’m so sorry) “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” He turned quickly, yanking open the door and rushing out of the temple for the second time in recent days, stifling down sobs until he could get outside. This time, Zolf didn’t call after him.

* * *

(Turned out, sometimes just having a good, long cry in his locked bedroom was enough to tamp down the flames. His door was slightly scorched from where he had collapsed against it, but beyond that, nothing.)

* * *

The thing about a broken heart, is that it distracts a person from everything else, takes up all their attention with the pain that - no matter how hard one tries to push it down - feels as though it will never go away. Hamid’s broken heart, for example, meant that he had almost completely forgotten that Gideon was set to arrive twelve days after The Kiss, and had spent the final four days after his conversation with Zolf wallowing in misery alone in his room. He probably would have continued wallowing, too, if it hadn’t been for Saira bursting into his room a short while before Gideon was set to arrive and snapping him out of it.

“Hamid?” she started softly; her tone laced with concern. Then, when he simply ignored her, “Hamid! I don’t know what’s wrong with you right now, but you need to get yourself under control. Gideon is supposed to be here in an hour!”

Hamid’s eyes snapped up to hers at the mention of Gideon’s name. “Sorry, what? Really?”

Saira nodded. “Shouldn’t your boyfriend be getting here soon?” Hamid bit his lip, shaking his head slowly. “What? I thought you said he was coming today.”

“I… I did say that. But he’s not. We- we had a fight. I…” Hamid sniffed, frantically rubbing away the tears he could feel threatening to fall with the back of his hand.

Saira’s gaze softened, and she moved to sit down on the bed next to him, wrapping one arm around him. He leaned over to rest his head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Hamid. That’s terrible. Do you want us to cancel? We can tell Gideon to leave, if you’re not feeling up to talking to him.”

Hamid’s head snapped up and he turned to look at her. “No! No, I- I need to talk to him, I need to… convince him. For the family. I can- I can handle it.”

“You’re sure?” Saira looked uncertain, her mouth a thin line, brows drawn together slightly.

(He wasn’t sure, not at all. He wasn’t sure that he’d be able to convince Gideon to get his parents to keep their accounts without agreeing to go back to what they’d once been. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to resist if that was really what Gideon wanted from him. But what did it really matter, if he went back? He may not have been the person he’d wanted to be, when they were together, but what did that really matter if the only other option was to hurt his whole family?)

Hamid nodded. “I’m sure.”

* * *

The thing about a broken heart is that it leaves a person vulnerable. Where they might have once been able to resist the temptation of an ex, they may instead be desperate for any kind of affection, no matter how harmful it may be to them in the future. Hamid’s broken heart, for example, meant that when Gideon managed to get him alone in a somehow entirely deserted hallway near the front entrance to the house, Hamid didn’t have the strength (or will) to resist Gideon kissing him. It meant that Hamid jumped up a bit to wrap his arms around Gideon’s neck, and his legs around his waist, and allowed Gideon to lift him up and pin him against the wall (the back of his head hit the wall as Gideon shoved him into it, but that was okay. Hamid was far more occupied with the way Gideon’s mouth felt on his, how it felt as it worked its way down to Hamid’s neck to start sucking and biting, making a mark there for everyone to see). It all felt so wonderfully, viscerally familiar that Hamid couldn’t help wondering how he’d ever lived without it, without Gideon.

Gideon pulled away for a moment to breathe, panting a bit. One of his hands came up to caress Hamid’s cheek (he found his arms wrapping tighter around the back to Gideon’s neck as he felt himself slip down the wall). “I’ve missed you.”

(Hamid hadn’t missed Gideon. He’d hated him, for a long time. He’d hated him for what he’d done in that classroom, for the harm that he’d caused. But he’d also hated him for other, more selfish reasons. He’d hated Gideon for what Hamid had been when he was with him, for who Gideon made him become. He’d hated Gideon for making him hate himself.)

“I’ve missed you too.”

(But maybe this was just what Hamid deserved. Maybe his lot in life was to become that terrible, horrible person he’d been with Gideon. Maybe his role was to give up the person he’d been trying to be, the good person he’d been working on becoming, for the sake of his family. And that was fine, because at least it was a purpose, at least it achieved _something_. Because if he couldn’t have Zolf, at least he could do _something_ worthwhile.)

Hamid moved one of his hands up to Gideon’s hair and yanked him back down for another kiss, their mouths colliding hard enough to be borderline painful. Gideon grinned into it, the hand that had been on Hamid’s face moving to stroke down his side, a meandering path down to the hem of his shirt. Just before he could push the shirt out of the way, however, they were interrupted by Saira’s voice calling from the entranceway.

“Hamid?”

Hamid pulled back from the kiss, tapping Gideon’s shoulder to get him to let him down. “Uh, yes, Saira?” Gideon let out a heavy sigh and put Hamid back on the ground (surprisingly gently, given everything Hamid knew about him). Hamid hastily readjusted his clothing, trying to make himself look presentable once more (realizing too late that the mark Gideon had left on his neck wouldn’t be covered by the collar of his shirt, no matter how he adjusted it).

Saira appeared at the entrance to the hallway, looking relieved. “Oh, good, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” When she glanced past him to where Gideon was leaning against the wall, looking incredibly smug, her expression soured some. She came closer to Hamid and spoke quietly enough for Gideon to be unable to hear her, “I thought you said your boyfriend wasn’t coming tonight. That you’d had a fight.”

“I did say that,” Hamid said, slowly (feeling a treacherous spark of hope in his chest), “because we did.”

Saira said nothing to that, just grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall toward the entranceway, and he heard Gideon move to follow them.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected to see when he reached the entryway, but what he did see nearly knocked the breath out of him. Zolf was standing there, scanning the room around him. Zolf was standing there, wearing a suit, and holding a bouquet of… roses, maybe? Hamid couldn’t tell. Zolf was standing there, tense and unsure, but the moment his eyes landed on Hamid it was like all the tension was released from him at once, a small smile appearing on his face. Zolf was standing there, and Hamid wanted nothing more than to hug him right then.

Then, he felt a hand land on his shoulder as Gideon entered the room behind him, and Zolf’s face fell. Hamid shifted, tried to shrug it off, but Gideon’s grip only tightened. Saira leaned over to him, whispered, “I’ll give you some space,” and left the room, leaving only Hamid, Gideon, and Zolf.

Zolf was the one who spoke up first. “Hamid, I…” He swallowed, visibly uncomfortable as his gaze flicked back and forth between Hamid and Gideon. “Can we talk? In private?”

Hamid opened his mouth to respond (_‘Yes, of course we can. The moment I saw you here I wished that Gideon was gone. Please stay, please never leave.’_), but Gideon beat him to it. “Afraid not, anything you want to say to Hamid, you can say to me.”

Zolf narrowed his eyes, glaring at Gideon. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“Well, I’m _telling_ you.”

There was pain radiating from Hamid’s shoulder where Gideon still gripped it, squeezing entirely too hard, and he tried once more to get it off, fruitlessly. “Gideon, please-”

“Hamid, do shut up,” was Gideon’s response, and he felt a bright flare of heat in his chest, felt the tingle in his hands that he had been learning meant they were shifting into claws. Gideon looked back to Zolf, returning his glare. “You. Get out.”

Zolf gently set the flowers aside on a small table next to him, and Hamid saw bright spots of blood on his palms from where the thorns had cut into him as he’d clutched them. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” He turned to Hamid, his voice achingly sincere as he spoke. “You deserve better than him. I know you do, and I know that you know that too. Please, Hamid.”

Gideon gave an incredulous snort. “Better than me? What, like you? As if! I’ve never seen someone so out of place in my life.” He stepped forward, hand dropping from Hamid’s shoulder as he stalked up to Zolf, so close that he had to crane his neck downward to keep eye contact. “You don’t belong here, you could never belong here, and you certainly don’t belong with him.” Gideon turned, grabbed Hamid by the shoulder again, and started pulling him down the hallway, away from Zolf. “Come on, Hamid. We were in the middle of something, weren’t we?”

The flames in Hamid’s chest had only grown with every word out of Gideon’s mouth. He felt the heat behind his ribs, under his skin, and he knew exactly what he needed to do. He took a deep breath, concentrated on the heat in his hands, felt it surge hotter and brighter. Then, he reached up, placing his hand on top of Gideon’s on his shoulder. Gideon cried out, yanking his hand away (but not quickly enough, the skin on the top of it was bright red and painful-looking, and the edge of his sleeve scorched where Hamid had touched it).

“What the- Gods, what did you do, Hamid?!” Gideon clutched at his burned hand, somehow looking both furious and terrified

“Go away, Gideon.”

Gideon glared at both of them and opened his mouth, seemingly to respond in some way, but when his eyes landed on Hamid it snapped shut, and he rushed out of the room. Hamid watched him go before turning back to Zolf.

“Zolf, I- I’m sorry, about him. He,” He started to move closer to Zolf, the flames under his skin dying down slowly until they were nothing more than a pleasant warmth. “He’s an ass. And he was wrong. I-” (love you) “You’re my friend, Zolf. I’m glad you’re here.” He wanted desperately to hug him, but kept his distance, recalling how Zolf had jerked away from him the last time.

Zolf shook his head, backing away toward the door. “You said you needed someone here to keep you from going back to him, right? And I did that. But he was right, I’m not- I can’t be… I’m sorry.” With that, he rushed out the front door, into the darkness beyond it. Away from Hamid.

Hamid stood frozen, tears gathering in his eyes as he watched Zolf go, then turned away from the door (he needed to go back, to deal with Gideon, fix this, help his family), only to nearly run into Saira. He moved to go past her, but she held him back, her hands on his shoulders.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to talk to Gideon. I need to- I need to fix this.” He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, carefully prestidigitating his makeup back to perfection as he did so.

Saira shook her head. “No, you’re not.” He started to respond, but she cut him off. “You really love Zolf, don’t you?” He nodded without hesitation and she gave him a small smile. “I could tell. Go after him, Hamid. I can figure out a way to deal with Gideon. I promise.”

He looked at Saira for a few moments longer, then to the door behind her that Gideon had disappeared through, before nodding once more. He turned and rushed out the front door, rushed after Zolf.

(He couldn’t lose Zolf. Not like this. Not ever.)

* * *

It didn’t take Hamid very long to catch up with Zolf, find where he was leaning against the wall of a building a few minutes away from Hamid’s home, his face in his hands as he took heavy, ragged breaths. Hamid skidded to a stop a few feet away and tried to calm his breathing before he spoke.

“Zolf! Thank the gods I’ve found you!”

Zolf’s head snapped up, gaze immediately focusing on Hamid, eyes wide. “Hamid, you… you followed me? You- you didn’t have to, you shouldn’t have, you-”

“Zolf, please, I… I need to talk to you. I need to tell you… Please, just let me- let me talk for a bit, okay?” Zolf nodded, and Hamid took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, about what said Gideon back there. He was wrong, he was so wrong, I-” Hamid reached out to grab one of Zolf’s hands in both of his, squeezing gently. “I love you, Zolf. And I- I know. I know you don’t feel the same, and that’s fine, I don’t need you to. I just want… I want to be your friend. I don’t need you to love me back, as long as I can do that. Please, Zolf let me do that, don’t- don’t leave just because you… because of what Gideon said. Please.”

Zolf looked stunned, eyes still wide, mouth hanging open. Suddenly, his other hand came up to where Hamid was holding his, keeping one of Hamid’s hands in place. “I… I thought you didn’t… When you ran away, I thought that was because you’d realized… Hamid, I love you too.”

(Hamid couldn’t track exactly what happened next, only that he wound up with his arms wrapped around Zolf’s neck, Zolf’s hands in his hair, Zolf kissing him as though his life depended on it, only pulling back long enough to breathe before moving back in. All Hamid knew was that this was the happiest he had ever been, because Zolf was here, and Zolf loved him. Everything was going to be alright.)

* * *

Hamid didn’t know what Saira had said to Gideon to convince him, and honestly, he didn’t really want to know (knowing her, it could have been anything from threats of grievous harm to sweet-talking and bribery, though realistically it was probably somewhere in the middle. The look in her eyes the last time he’d asked, however… it made him wonder). No matter what it had been, it had worked; the Langdon’s family’s threats to close their accounts with the banks stopped, and Hamid and the rest of his family hadn’t heard from them (or Gideon) since.

In all honesty, Hamid hadn’t so much as _thought_ of Gideon in the months since, he was far too busy with his friends and boyfriend to think of an unpleasant ex.

One day, around six months after Gideon had come and gone, Hamid, Zolf, Grizzop, Sasha, and Azu were sitting on the ground in Hamid’s garden, playing some sort of game that seemed to be a hybrid between ‘Never Have I Ever’ and ‘Truth or Dare’. Hamid and Zolf were sitting next to each other, Zolf’s arm around him as he rested his head on Zolf’s shoulder. Grizzop sat next to Hamid, occasionally poking him in the arm whenever it seemed like he might be falling asleep (it was warm, and Hamid was comfortable, could anyone really blame him). Sasha and Azu completed the circle, sitting closer together than was strictly necessary, shooting surreptitious glances at each other whenever they thought the other wasn’t looking.

As Azu wrapped Sasha up in a tight hug, laughing loudly and brightly (causing Sasha to turn bright red), Hamid leaned up to whisper in Zolf’s ear. “So, when do you think they’ll figure it out?”

Zolf remained silent for a moment, considering, before whispering back, “I’d say soon. Sasha’s a terrible liar.”

“True, true.” Hamid pressed a kiss to Zolf’s cheek, savouring the blush that emerged on Zolf’s face for a moment before settling back down on his shoulder.

“Never have I ever…” Grizzop began, pointedly looking at Hamid, “lit myself on fire.”

Hamid chuckled, sitting up to take a sip of his drink, then nearly spitting it out in surprise as Azu took one too. The entire circle erupted into various exclamations of shock and disbelief, all of them trying to figure out when and how Azu had managed to light herself on fire while she grinned placidly at the chaos.

As Azu began to tell the story (which seemed to involve a camel, a dare, and copious amounts of orcish), Hamid took a moment to look at all his friends around him, feeling a comfortable warmth settle in his chest. He smiled as he felt Zolf kiss the top of his head.

Everything was alright. More than that, everything was fantastic, and Hamid had never been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at redactedquill!


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